


excuse me a minute, miss

by kanjogirl



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Smut, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:43:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanjogirl/pseuds/kanjogirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders how the hell she doesn't know what she does to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	excuse me a minute, miss

It really had started somewhere in his early teens.  At least, consciously, it did.  
  
  
Barry lives in the room below Iris'.  So he can her shifting around upstairs.  When she brings friends over, when she's dancing to Destiny's Child, when she's about to stomp down the stairs to yell at him because he's playing Led Zepplin too loudly.  From the moment he was taken in, he's learned Iris' routines before he the year is over.  
  
  
So he's fourteen and things get a little weird.  They're watching this one movie.  They're in the living room.  Joe is taking a long shift and they're just waiting for him.  (They still wait up sometimes.)  Iris' legs are rest on his lap, bundled up in a blanket.  It comes to a sex scene and it's all shaky breaths, lips and skin and he's really not sure how it happens but it does. Because Iris takes in a breath, shifts her legs and it's not making things better.  He's having that awkward boner that he would trade anything in the world to get rid of.    
  
  
She shifts again and he gets up immediately, mumbling about the bathroom and stumbles there.  He's got himself in one hand and is trying his hardest not to make a sound so he turns the fan on and it only makes it worse somehow.  Barry's thinking about getting finished when Iris flashes before his mind, breathless and soft and---  
  
  
He comes right before there's knocking on the door with her voice, "Barry, I gotta go too!  Hurry!"  
  
  
Barry's red and can't look at her in the eye when he opens the door to let her in.  
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
Another time happens when he's just discovering porn on his desktop and it's like opening a whole new world.  So he's jacking off to wall sex when he closes his eyes and sees Iris.  
  
  
And, okay, he won't lie to himself.  He might be crushing on her.  Though, Barry's not sure what one may call what he has for Iris.  He wants to share every waking moment with her and also kiss her and just---yeah, whatever.  He probably really likes her.  ("Do you like _like_ her?" this annoying kid in his class asked once and Barry frowned.)  
  
  
But this time, Barry continues the fantasy.  Sees her pressed up against the wall while he props her up.  And it's way too easy to come after that.  
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
One time, she almost catches him.    
  
  
He's on his bed, in basketball shorts and no shirt because thinks that's cool somehow.  He's forgotten about his homework ten minutes when the urge struck and he's got himself in his hand, thinking about Iris being above him, hair falling over her shoulders and he's breathing things to her.  
  
  
And then she's banging on his door for something that's really unnecessary and shouldn't be allowed to bang on people's doors for.  And what's worse is that he's coming.  It shouldn't happen but she's screaming his name (rather urgently and that doesn't help) and he's feeling both terrified and turned on.    
  
  
Just as he's coming, she's opening the door (he'd yell at her but, you know, preoccupied) and he's flipping his sheets off the bed and hiding his hand behind his back.  His blush extends from his chest to his face and, god, she has to know.  
  
  
Iris is stomping over to his radio, punching the off button so hard, he thinks she broke it, and looks at him with a glare.  "What'd I say about your---"    
  
  
And this she stops talking altogether when she sees him there.  She blinks.  He's staring wide eyed, thinking about how gross it feels to have cum on his hand that he's hiding and the comforter that's on the floor and how suspicious this all might look like.    
  
  
Suddenly, she's stumbling over her words, "Why---?  Get a shirt on!  Gross, why are---?  Boys are so---ugh!"   
  
  
She's gone and he's sinking to the floor, groaning.  
  
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
So it becomes a thing.  He jacks off to her and he steadily grows out of denial.  That's fine because it's not real.    
  
  
But there's that problem too.  Because  _it's not real_.  And he thinks it'll never be.  
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
It continues and he kinda hates it.  
  
  
She tells him about her first kiss with a guy named Harry and he thinks what a horrible name that is, and  _don't say anything, let him have this grudge._   He's a glutton for punishment, so he asks with a small grimace:  
  
  
"So how was it?"  
  
  
"Okay," she chirps, bouncing on his bed in her cross-legged position.    
  
  
"Okay," he monotones.    
  
  
A shrug.  She's looking at the ceiling, not at him.  "I don't know.  It was weird.  His mouth just stayed there and I couldn't breathe!"   
  
  
She giggles and he shakes his head.  "Seventeen and your first kiss.  Wow, Iris," he teases.  
  
  
She punches him in the arm.  "Says the guy who doesn't have crushes!  Bet you haven't kissed anyone yet."  
  
  
He has.  He's kissed Iris a million times.  On his bed, in the hallway, on the couch, in the schoolyard, in the backseat of Joe's car.   
  
  
Barry grins and rolls his eyes.  Iris snorts.  "Though so."  
  
  
As she gets up, her arm goes around his shoulders for a small hug and she presses her lips against his cheek.  It's something she's done before.  Something so familiar but unspoken at the same time.  
  
  
"There," she murmurs, like it should be a secret, "Now you can say a girl kissed you."  
  
  
After she leaves, he's having that problem again.  
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
There would be times they were drunk together, laughing and having a great time.  When Iris gets drunk, she's touchy and he both loves and hates it at the same time.  
  
  
Because on one hand, Iris' hands over his skin is all his horny teenage years have craved for.  And then there's the reality of it:  _Iris is off limits, Barry._      
  
  
There's this one time she wraps her arms around him while he's pouring them another drink, presses her body against his and her fingers press against his abdomen.  She's doing little circles there and it's doing things to him.  He clears his throat and turns around, ignoring the semi-hardness in his pants.  She's doesn't quite let go until he says her name and she looks up with glassy eyes and she grins.  
  
  
That does things to him too.  
  
  
She takes the drink, not before lazily pulling her hands away, skimming the material over his waist.  He breathes in and excuses himself for five minutes.  
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
It gets a little better later on.  Though it doesn't stop.   
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
When they're on that rooftop, he's trying hard not to show it.  Not to show how obvious he adores her, his identity.  Because it has to be obvious, right?  Maybe it's different when Barry's around her because he's been in love with her since he turned twelve.  But adoration for Iris West on the Flash might look a little different.  
  
  
Her voice is breathy and her shoulders rise and fall and he's behind her, wanting to skim his hand over her skin, kiss her neck and, yeah, this is getting to be too much.  
  
  
She spins around and he has to blur his face.  And they're way too close.  She looks at him like he's this amazing person, like there could be _something_ but he's just _Barry_.  
  
  
And when he rushes away, he's in his room, throwing his suit on the floor and is palming himself before three seconds are over.  His eyes burn and he can hardly breathe, thinking of all the possible things that could have happened on that rooftop.    
  
  
(Her legs wrapped around his waist, or she's on top of him, concrete digging into his back, his lips against her neck and he's whispering how fucking gorgeous she is.)  
  
  
He comes with a shudder and groaning out a, " _Fuck_."  
  
  
Because he's really, really  _fucked.  
  
_  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
He takes her to this fundraiser thing she's writing a small paper on.  She has to interview someone and he helps her with it.  She's dressed up (as usually, honestly) and he's in this suit and tie that she picked out for him a couple years ago.  She's got her hair up and he says something about it being nice down; the look she gave him was a little unreadable.  
  
  
At the end of the function, Iris has her interview and is tipsy.  He's not sure how that happened because he's always looking her way. She's giggling about everything and he can't really complain because her smile is---it's  _something_.  
  
  
When they're in the taxi, heading home, she snuggles against him.  It's comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.  He smells the strawberry flavored drink she had on her breath, the Victoria Secret perfume she uses, feels the brush of her dark hair against his cheek.  So he leans into her because he can't resist this (let him have one thing, please) and closes his eyes.    
  
  
"What would I do without you?"  
  
  
In that moment, he thinks about the Queen Nefertiti that he did a paper on in his first year of college for a history class.  He remembers thinking of Iris the entire time, writing down his admiration of this magnificent Queen of an empire and thinking how much he was aligning her with the girl he's grown up with.  It's just a flash before his mind.  So he tells her the truth.  
  
  
"You'd be completely fine."  
  
  
Probably more so.  
  
  
She shifts a little after that.  He can feel her frown in his mind's eyes because that's something she does when he makes a comment that slights himself even if it compliments her.  There's this small sigh and then she's moving up a little more, her face snuggled into his neck, nose skimming his neck.  His skin feels aflame then and a familiar need thrums through his body.  
  
  
Her hand lands softly upon his neck, a little too far up, and he's not breathing.  He keeps himself in real time because slowing this down means he'll react too fast, mess up, or something.  And he doesn't want that.  Barry's thinking of all the possible things she could be doing this for besides what he actually wants.  Like how they used to cuddle when they were twelve and Joe told them to get the fuck up because he said so.  
  
  
Her breath is hot against his neck and it makes it worse.  Barry swallows and breathes in, concentrates on calming down.  Because there's a little problem in his pants and if she notices, his cover for about a good few years will be blown.  In the worst way.  
  
  
"You smell nice."  
  
  
That's it.  
  
  
"Iris..."  
  
  
A hum for an answer and it reverberates through his body.  He inwardly groans and wants to grab her, kiss her and--- _dammit_.  
  
  
" _Iris_."  
  
  
" _Bartholomew_ ," she feigns seriousness and starts laughing, moving away ever so slightly and covers her mouth.    
  
  
He breathes in and wonders how the fuck she doesn't know what she does to him.  
  
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
And, yeah, later he's on his back, jacking off to Iris West.  He's breathing out shakily, hating himself a little because this shit is just to ridiculous.  He's not a teenager anymore.  And, yeah, that's his adopted sister.  And yeah, she's got this boyfriend who is great.  And, yeah, he pretends a little too much for things he shouldn't.  
  
  
He says her name over and over and stares up at the ceiling.  His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.  He wants to call her but she's probably the same as he left her: passed out in her room.  He wants to tell her the two secrets he's been keeping, tell her he's fucked up and he really didn't mean it.  
  
  
He turns on Led Zepplin instead and changes his sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm a sucker for het ships that have the male completely in awe of the female; so much so that he needs to masturbate to her. :)))) Also, I just like masturbation fics and there's this huge lack of them in the world. And smut in the WestAllen world so...


End file.
